


Coming Attractions

by Rehfan



Series: Stiles from State Farm [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Claiming, Come Swallowing, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Movie Theater Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:52:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott has his first date with Stiles from State Farm. He's nervous, but should he be? Technically they've already had phone sex twice.</p><p>But this is the first meeting in the flesh. What the hell happens now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Attractions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FandumbGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandumbGirl/gifts).



Scott paced outside of the movie theater. He had butterflies on his butterflies; after all, his life had taken a turn for the surreal. Not a week ago he was placing his phone call for auto insurance and wound up having phone sex with a guy calling himself Stiles. And the day after that, he was having phone sex with Stiles again, but that time, Stiles had gone to the library to make it more exciting. Now here they were, about to have their first date and what of all places does Stiles choose but a multiplex movie theater in the heart of town. Scott’s stomach did flip-flops as he imagined all the filthy things Stiles probably had planned for their first time together.

But that was just it: it was their first time together. All Scott had to go on was a vague description of Stiles. He had no idea what the guy looked like. He was hoping he was hot. He was hoping Stiles was a good person. Hell, at this point, Scott was just hoping Stiles wasn’t an axe-murdering ex-convict who’s real name was Maurice.

Scott laughed at himself and shook his head. No. He had made contact with him through a legit business. It was just his nervousness getting the better of him. But still… he hoped he was hot.

Scott scanned the parking lot again for the Jeep then he checked his watch. Three minutes late. Scott sighed. They had texted each other and told one another what they were going to wear so that they would know each other on sight. Scott straightened his State Champs t-shirt and stuck his nervous hands in his jeans pockets. This waiting was killing him.

“Not a bad night for a movie, huh?” asked a voice from behind him.

Scott spun around and came face to face with the softest brown eyes he had ever seen, the darkest and longest lashes, the most perfect mouth, and a neck that went on for days. His shoulders were broad and strong and Scott wondered about his belly: would it be soft or muscled? A laugh escaped his lips when he saw Stiles had worn khakis like he said he would. A red hoodie with the State Farm logo embroidered on one side was a dead giveaway that this was indeed Stiles from State Farm.

Scott felt a blush pass over his face. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I don’t mean to stare… um… hi.”

Stiles smiled. “Hi.”

They stood there awkwardly being awkward for a few seconds.

“So,” began Scott, “we should go in, right?”

“Yeah,” said Stiles. He seemed almost as in shock at meeting Scott as Scott was to meet him. Scott thought that was flattering. “Yeah, the movie’s gonna start with or without us, so…”

They smiled shyly at one another and moved to the ticket booth. They had agreed to go to a film they had both seen before and liked. It was an easy choice. The blockbuster of the season was just leaving the theater and this was one of the last opportunities to see it. This would guarantee that they would be entertained if they didn’t care for each other physically, and if they were into each other… well who gave a damn about a movie they’d already seen?

They opted for the seats in the farthest corner in the last row; it was Stiles’ idea.

Normally, Scott would load up on candy and soda when he went to see a film, but something told him that he shouldn’t bother. The only thing he was salivating for was to know what Stiles tasted like. And then, he thought lasciviously, he wanted to know what flavor Stiles came in.

The first thing Stiles did when they got to their seats was flip up the armrest between them. Scott’s heart skipped a beat. The previews were just starting, the lights just dimming and he was seated next to a real-life Stiles.

The warnings about silencing cell phones came on and suddenly, Stiles turned to him. “Dude, I can’t take it.”

“What?” asked Scott. He was way more jumpy and panicky than he was proud of being at that moment. What did he mean, ‘couldn’t take it’? Did that mean he didn’t like him and had to confess? Scott swallowed hard past a lump in his throat. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I’m sorry, Scott,” he said. “It’s just… I can’t take the tension any more.”

“Um… okay?”

“Can I- can-” stammered Stiles nervously, “and you can say no, okay? You can really say no to me. It’s cool. But… can I kiss you? Just once?”

Scott blinked at him for a moment before giving him a beaming smile. “Sure.”

They both leaned in eager to taste the other but the angle was bad and they bumped noses.

“Ow,” said Scott.

“Oh… shit,” said Stiles. “Sorry.”

Scott laughed nervously. “Sorry too, dude. You okay?”

“Yeah, just a minor bruising of my pride,” said Stiles.

“It’s okay,” said Scott, blushing. “Well… that was awkward.”

“Yeah,” said Stiles.

“Maybe if we take it slower?” suggested Scott.

“Yeah, and both of us lean left,” said Stiles.

Scott allowed himself a quick laugh before pressing his lips to Stiles’.

Stiles had a slow, sensual technique that was apparent from the get-go. Scott hoped he was as good as Stiles felt to him. His hand shot to Stiles’ arm and pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss. At the first touch of their tongues, Scott felt heat spread south. He tilted his head the opposite way and moved his hand to Stiles’ neck, indulging in the cool of his skin. Stiles seemed to like taking his time exploring; his tongue worked in slow laps and circles, seeming to caress Scott’s tongue. Stiles implied so much more when, as the kiss broke, he lingeringly sucked at Scott’s bottom lip for a split second.

They both stared at each other breathless as the lights lowered completely and the screen widened. The movie was forgotten.

 

~080~

 

The theater was as empty as could be expected. The stadium seat theater held about two hundred and twenty-nine patrons when at full capacity, but that night it only held thirty. Twenty-eight of them were actually watching the movie.

The other two were trying not to make it too obvious to one another that they were so excited, emotionally and physically, but Stiles couldn’t slow the beating of his heart as Scott’s hand rested on his thigh in the dark.

“You taste so fucking good,” Scott murmured between kisses.

Stiles felt the same way about Scott and he would have told him as much had his teeth not clicked and collided with Scott’s when they turned their heads and went in for another kiss.

“Shit. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” said Scott, diving in for another taste.

His hands were warm against Stiles’ skin and there was a fleeting moment when Stiles wondered when he had done that, but he was too eager to get his hands against Scott’s torso.

Warm. Yes, warm. That was a good word to describe Scott: his warm smile, his warm eyes, his warm skin, his warm mouth making other parts of Stiles very very warm… everything was deliciously, comfortably warm with Scott McCall. He hummed his way into another kiss and snuck his hands around behind Scott’s waist and up, up, up to his broad shoulders only to slide them back down along his ribs, teasing him with fingertips hooked into the waistband of his jeans and underwear.

“Oh fu-” muttered Scott.

“More?” asked Stiles.

“What more can we do? I mean…” he nodded toward the screen as the hero was blowing up a wall to rescue his friend from the enemy camp.

“Oh ye of little imagination,” teased Stiles as he licked his lips. He took a furtive look around and turned back to Scott. “This okay?” He put a hand to Scott’s belt.

 

~080~

 

“Holy shit, Stiles,” said Scott. His heart leapt in his chest and he almost got to his feet in shock. Was Stiles suggesting a hand job right here in the theater?

He was of two minds about this: a hand job in a populated theater was hella risky and yet, erotic as _hell_. Before his common sense over-rode his sense of adventure, he stuttered: “Y-yeah.”

Stiles made quick work of his flies, but not before letting the buckle clatter loudly during an inopportune and rare quiet moment in the film. They both froze and looked around. No one noticed them. An explosion went off in the movie and the hero was on screen again, guns blazing. Scott fervently wished for more privacy so that his heart could slow for a bit, but Stiles’ hand was on him and he barely stifled his gasp.

_And then it was his mouth._

Breathing became a challenge almost immediately - mostly because Scott’s body had forgotten how.

Scott carded a hand through the hair at the nape of Stiles’ head as he slowly bobbed on his cock. His worry about being seen was being slowly replaced with the enjoyment of the blow job he was getting.

“Shit, Stiles,” said Scott, his voice reduced to a harsh whisper despite the din of the action movie on the screen.

Stiles pulled off his cock long enough to give him an impish glance and say: “I know, right?!” before putting his head back down and taking Scott’s breath away once again.

It wasn’t so much that Stiles had a killer technique. It wasn’t his touch. Both were better than fumbling in the dark; Stiles was no virgin, but he wasn’t perfect either. But Scott was driven crazy by the thought that it was Stiles - _his Stiles_ \- touching him for real. The whole night wasn’t flawless, but it wasn’t awful either - because it was Stiles.

Suddenly, Stiles was coughing. He had gone for the deep throat and choked. He backed off his dick with a murmured apology.

“Dude,” said Scott, “it feels amazing. Don’t worry. I’m so fucking happy right now. No need to go that far. I mean… unless you really want to.”

“Oh you bet I want to, Scotty. Fuck,” said Stiles and he tried again with better success. When he pulled off he gave Scott another proud grin. Scott had never seen something so lascivious as Stiles Stilinski in the half-light smiling around the tip of his engorged cock. It made him want to come all over his face.

“Jesus, Stiles,” said Scott, “I’m so fucking close, dude.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Are you kidding me? I mean: look where we are and what you’re doing to me! Why wouldn’t I be ready to fucking nut all over your face?”

“Oh my god,” groaned Stiles. “Would you?”

“Seriously?”

“Fuck yeah.” Even in the dim light Scott could tell that Stiles’ cheeks were flushed. He took off his hoodie and pushed it down behind him in the seat. “Fucking do it, man.” He sucked at Scott’s cock almost aggressively, willing the boy to cum with every single solitary pull-off.

Scott rode it for as long as he could stand it. “Fuck!” he whispered harshly. He grabbed at his dick and stroked himself off all over Stiles’ face. Most of the cum got in his mouth, along his upturned nose, and along his chin. Stiles’ red tongue was lapping at it like a dog at a drinking fountain. When Scott had finally stopped he laid back against the seat and panted watching as Stiles sat up and licked his lips and around his mouth, cum glistening all over him. Eyes closed and in the flickering light of the film, he looked thoroughly debauched.

Scott caught his breath and put himself away wondering if he should return the favor. After all, wasn’t that the polite thing to do?

 

~080~

 

That was the single best thing that had happened to Stiles. In all his twenty-one years on the planet, the best he could boast to that point was a quickie hand job from a third-rate cheerleader at homecoming one year. And he wasn’t even half as gorgeous as Scott McCall. He adjusted his khakis to accommodate his boner and scooped a hand under the hem of his shirt, wiping his face off with the material and thinking all the while about how much he couldn’t wait to get Scott home in his bed. And perhaps Scott was reading his mind, because at that same moment, he felt a warm mouth around his left nipple. He lowered the shirt enough to see the back of Scott’s head and the edge of his face. The boy had his eyes closed in concentration and Stiles closed his own, simply feeling the sensation of Scott’s tongue play over that little nubbin of flesh.

“Fuck yeah, Scotty,” murmured Stiles.

Scott came up and kissed him slowly, lapping at his mouth as if they had all the time in the world and no one was going to come along and cart them away for behaving badly in a movie theater. “Do you want me to…?” he asked.

“Jesus,” said Stiles. “Fuck yeah. I mean- if you really want to.”

“I… uh. I haven’t done this in a while,” admitted Scott.

“What? Like I was perfect just now?” asked Stiles. “Dude. You want to suck me off in the back of a theater. That automatically makes you my favorite person in the universe.”

Scott laughed gently and gave him a soft smile. He kissed him again, this time with affection attached. “Thanks,” he said.

“I’m so glad we met,” said Stiles.

“Me too.”

Stiles had his flies open in a moment. This time the buckle stayed quiet and Scott was on him soon afterward. Stiles could tell that Scott was hesitant, maybe even a bit nervous. He whispered: “I’m really easy to please, Scotty. Just give me a little suction, work the head with your mouth and stroke me with your hand at the same time. I’ll come for you just from that. Promise.”

Scott was about to agree when a wicked thought crossed his mind. He licked the tip of Stiles’ cock playfully. “We’ll see about that,” he said.

Stiles gave him a curious glance, but said nothing save a low soft moan as Scott took him in his mouth fully.

Stiles had been right: to bring him to the crest of orgasm wasn’t difficult at all. In less than five minutes of licking, sucking, and low moaning through lips pressed to his frenulum, Stiles was an agitated mess in no time. As soon as Scott saw it, as soon as Stiles managed the word “Cl-close”, Scott pulled gently at the base of Stiles’ cock, put his mouth to his ear and whispered: “Not yet, pretty boy.”

 

~080~  


 

Stiles’ eyes flew open wide and looked into Scott’s. His were aglow with playfulness. It was terrible and wonderful all at the same time.

“Wha- what?” he asked, but his brain had already caught on.

“Not until I say so,” said Scott, his voice a low growl.

“F-fuck,” said Stiles. He closed his eyes and laid back against the seat.

The warmth around Stiles’ cock returned and he waited for the build-up again. The heat in his belly built up and spread to his loins. He felt himself being pulled, licked, and sucked to orgasm…only to fall away at the edge of forever and slide back down again. Over and over, his balls tightened, he anticipated the outpouring of release, only for it to fade off again as Scott released him and brought him back to himself again, sluggish and unwilling.

Finally, he begged him: “Please.”

He must have looked fucking pathetic because Scott’s playfulness had vanished and was replaced with a look of sweet compassion.

“Had enough?”

“Yes, Scotty,” panted Stiles. “Please just let me come.”

Scott kissed him again and Stiles could taste himself on Scotty’s lips. “More,” Stiles added.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re pushy?”

Stiles couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. “All the time.” He could feel Scott playing with his balls and tracing up and down his shaft loosely. He wanted more alright. He wanted to rut against Scott McCall right here in these goddamn stadium theater seats.

“Well you’re not the boss of me,” said Scott and he traced the tip of his tongue around the shell of Stiles’ ear. “You will come when I say you can come and not a moment sooner.”

“Dude, we’re gonna get caught,” said Stiles in the hopes that it would make Scott nervous enough to finish him off.

“Oh I’m way past worrying about that now.”

“Shit,” said Stiles and he let out a whimper.

“That’s right,” said Scott. “Tell me, Stiles from State Farm, who owns you?”

“You do.”

“Who?”

You do.”

“I can’t hear you, Stiles. Look me in the eye and tell me who owns your pretty cock.”

Stiles couldn’t disobey. Scott’s chocolate brown eyes were so different when he told him: “My cock belongs to you, Scotty. Only you.” They were dark and serious. Grave. Yeah… that was the word. Scott’s eyes were grave. And that was such a fucking turn-on. “More please, sir,” he managed.

“That’s better,” said Scott and he bent over Stiles’ cock once more, humming along his length, pressing back against Stiles’ hips when he tried to buck, caressing and cradling his balls, slurping at his saliva until he had to let off with a wet _pop_. Stiles’ breath was heaving, his body contorting, trying to find some way to release the tremendous pressure inside. He was practically keening. If it weren’t for the loud surround sound, Stiles would have given them both away in a heartbeat. Scott seemed to realize that Stiles’ resolve to hold out was on its last legs.

“Come for me now, Stiles,” said Scotty.

“Yes.” He felt the warmth of Scott’s mouth on his tip one last time as he shot his load on command. The release of it was the most delicious bliss. Stiles saw stars and stifled a groan with his hand. His other was carding through Scott’s hair as the boy swallowed his cum.

As he came down he vaguely recalled Scott gently stroking his shaft, easing his orgasm’s wane. He felt warm kisses trail up his chest from the thatch of hair above his spent cock to the thatch of hair in the middle of his chest. Then the mouth found his throat. Then his jaw. Then his ear. Then his mouth.

Slowly, they lapped at each other, each man tasting the other, scents lingering as well.

“I never want to stop making you come, Stiles,” said Scott.

“Please don’t,” managed Stiles, his sex-haze lifting slowly. “I’ll… do the… same for you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, Scotty.”

“Cool,” smiled Scott.

The lights came up in the theater and a voice rang out: “Hey, you two pervs!”

“Shit!” they swore simultaneously, hurriedly tucking themselves back into their clothing, tearing down the stairs of the theater, barreling out the fire exit door, and booking it for all they were worth down the side street outside the theater. By the time they had reached Stiles’ car, they were out of breath. They caught each other’s eye and started to snicker. Pretty soon they were laughing their asses off.

“Dude!” exclaimed Scott between peals of laughter. “Your shirt!” The black shirt Stiles had been wearing was showing clear signs of being stained.

“It’s cool,” said Stiles and he donned his State Farm hoodie that he had snatched up when they left the theater. It covered him past the waist.

“Thank God for State Farm, huh?” said Scott, giggling. “Great protection.”

“Seriously,” said Stiles. “That company was finally good for something.”

Scott stepped close to him. “So that’s two good things State Farm did for you.”

“Totally,” smiled Stiles and he kissed him for all he was worth.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally supposed to be a goofy one-off. It turned into a trilogy. I am pleased that it did, but my readers should know that I have no further plans for this series at the moment. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did! Thanks for reading along!


End file.
